Gas Station Food & Broken iPhones
by Satan Abraham
Summary: All Barkovitch wants to do is find a place to eat his stupid gas station mini-pizza and drink his forty-four ounce fountain pop. But of course things aren't that simple. [slight parkovitch] [oneshot] [no long walk going on here] [rated t for swearing]


Gary Barkovitch glanced around, gas station mini-pizza in one hand, forty-four ounce fountain pop in the other, trying to find a place to sit down. There were a few benches outside of the gas station, but they were full of people, and he wasn't about to sit next to some obese dumbass who elbowed him in the side every two seconds. He'd been in this situation before.

He headed around back, where the smell of gasoline was strongest – the bench back there usually wasn't occupied, thanks to the aforementioned smell of gasoline. Barkovitch didn't really mind it. It was better than people.

Today, though, there was someone sitting there. He was sprawled out in the middle, two, so that no matter where Barkovitch sat, he'd be sitting by him. He was bent over, tapping a touch screen phone relentlessly. The screen was black. Barkovitch smirked a little bit.

Maybe he'd sit there, just to see the kid get pissed.

He sat down on the edge of the bench, and the kid gave him a cursory once-over, dismissed him, and went back to jabbing at his phone. Barkovitch balanced his pizza on his knees and burned his mouth on the first piece.

"Hey, you."

Barkovitch glanced at the kid. He was kind of terrifying, actually – big and blond and muscular, with huge arms coming out of the sleeves of a polo. "What?"

"You got a phone? I gotta call my folks," the kid said. Barkovitch, a little wary, hesitated. "For Chrissake, I ain't gonna steal anything from you. 'Course, goddam kid like you would probably just tell his mom on me and be done with it."

"_Kid?_ I'm sixteen!"

"Yeah, right."

True, he had just turned sixteen. But he was still sixteen. "Yeah, and I bet you're in your mid-twenties and still living with your parents."

"What the _fuck, _I'm seventeen!"

"Whatever," Barkovitch snapped. The kid looked insulted. The expression looked pretty comfortable on his face. "Find a pay phone."

"A _pay _phone, who the fuck carries money around for a pay phone? Just let me use your goddam phone!"

"Why would I do that? You're some freak who probably broke his phone, and I'm just trying to eat in peace."

The kid grabbed his pizza before he could react. "Pizza or phone, kid. Your choice."

"_What?"_

"You've got thirty seconds before I eat a piece. You wanna eat in peace or what?"

Barkovitch scowled and crossed his arms, keeping his pop as far away from the kid as he could. In about twenty seconds, the first piece of pizza had disappeared. "Come _on, _Dumbo, stop being a jackass."

"Dumbo? You _are _twelve! Thirty seconds!"

Barkovitch muttered something about pizza being taken hostage and handed over his phone. iPhone. 5S. New. If this kid broke it, Barkovitch was going to kill him.

"Hey, what's your name?" the kid asked after passing over the pizza.

"You owe me another pizza," Barkovitch muttered.

"Shut it about your goddam pizza and answer the question. How the hell do you work this?"

"_That's _an iPhone."

"And it died before I figured out how to work it!"

"Fucking loser," Barkovitch snorted. He closed the pizza box and leaned over to enter his passcode and get the call screen up for the kid. "Voila, sucky."

The kid called, had a heated, profanity-filled conversation on Barkovitch's phone, and handed it back. "Here," he said. "Thanks. I guess."

It was awkward. "So, what's going on?" Barkovitch asked. He didn't really care, but, hell, his phone had been used, so he could know what was going on.

The kid grimaced. "Nothin'. Uncle'll drop by after work to pick me up. I'd walk, or catch a ride with someone I like, but it ain't working out for me tonight."

There was a pause.

"The name's Collie Parker, by the way."

"Whatever, Blondie," Barkovitch said, rolling his eyes. Parker frowned.

"Well, fuck you too, buddy. Don't even know what the hell your name is-"

"Barkovitch."

"Barkobitch, whatever-"

"_V, _dumbass. Bark-o-vitch. It's Slovenian."

"What the fuck, who even knows that."

"Yeah, well, with a dumbass name like Parker, I wouldn't want to know where it came from. Buy me another pizza."

"No!"

They lapsed into silence. Barkovitch continued to eat his pizza, watching Parker out of the corner of his eye. Parker was watching him, too, and it kind of creeped him out.

Eventually, the pizza was done and Barkovitch stood up. He stretched, pop in one hand, pizza box in the other. "See you later," Parker said. He'd gone back to tapping on the broken iPhone.

"Whatever," Barkovitch snorted, heading to throw away the pizza box. He paused. "Actually, yeah, because you still owe me pizza."

"Oh for Chrissake-"

* * *

**It's been so long since I've written Parkovitch and it's so much fun. Dear God. So much fun.**

**Obviously non-Long Walk AU. **


End file.
